He had conceived that it would be an easy one, but
found himself mistaken. Whether because his fancy was not
sufficiently lively, or his mind was not in tune, he was unable to
produce the effect he desired. The faces which he successively
outlined were all stiff, and though perhaps sufficiently regular in
feature, lacked the great charm of being expressive and life-like.
"What is the matter with me?" he exclaimed, impatiently, throwing
down his pencil. "Is it impossible for me to succeed? Well, I will
be patient, and make one trial more."
He made another trial, that proved as unsatisfactory as those
preceding.
"It is clear," he decided, "that I am not in the vein. I will go out
and take a walk, and perhaps while I am in the street something will
strike me."
He accordingly donned his coat and hat, and, descending, emerged
into the great thoroughfare, where he was soon lost in the throng.
It was only natural that, as he walked, with his task still in his
thoughts, he should scrutinize carefully the faces of such young
girls as he met.
"Perhaps," it occurred to him, "I may get a hint from some face I
may see. That will be better than to depend upon my fancy. Nothing,
after all, is equal to the masterpieces of Nature."
But the young artist was fastidious. "It is strange," he thought,
"how few there are, even in the freshness of childhood, that can be
called models of beauty.
Pages:
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108